


Room of Hidden Things

by thedarklordherself



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diadem Horcrux, F/M, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Room of Requirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 05:42:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17238470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarklordherself/pseuds/thedarklordherself
Summary: I do not own anything presented by J.K. Rowling beforehand!Prompt:8th year. Hermione decided to return Hogwarts but apparently, she isn't ready to face the Castle. Haunted by the war and the deaths still, she finds refuge in the Room of Requirements.That's when a young man visits her sanctuary to study. Early in his twenties, black hair and the most charming smiles, he quickly becomes a good study partner. Someone to make her forget everything.Knowing the properties of the room, she knows he isn't real. Nobody could enter her room without her permission while she used it. And she accepts that perhaps she is imagining him.The catch is, he is indeed alive. So so. Barely?He is Tom Riddle, the remnant of his soul that should have been burnt in the Fiendfyre that had destroyed the Diadem.





	Room of Hidden Things

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Tomione_Fest18](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Tomione_Fest18) collection. 



> I do not own anything presented by J.K. Rowling beforehand!
> 
>  
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> 8th year. Hermione decided to return Hogwarts but apparently, she isn't ready to face the Castle. Haunted by the war and the deaths still, she finds refuge in the Room of Requirements. 
> 
> That's when a young man visits her sanctuary to study. Early in his twenties, black hair and the most charming smiles, he quickly becomes a good study partner. Someone to make her forget everything. 
> 
> Knowing the properties of the room, she knows he isn't real. Nobody could enter her room without her permission while she used it. And she accepts that perhaps she is imagining him. 
> 
> The catch is, he is indeed alive. So so. Barely?
> 
> He is Tom Riddle, the remnant of his soul that should have been burnt in the Fiendfyre that had destroyed the Diadem.

_Fire, fire, fire, fire, fire._

There was nothing else. How he ended up in an endless loop of flames was beyond him. How long had he been engulfed in this element?

There was still the need and ambition of wanting to be great and powerful, even at twenty-two years old. What happened, was he defeated? Is this what those silly muggles at the orphanage talked about? Was he in hell? That would be so ironic. He rejected their so-called theory of an imaginary God.

Everything they relayed from some book would have deemed him an ultimate sinner. Not that he cared. He knew he was unique and different when Dumbledore revealed there was such a thing as magic. 

Playing the deduction game, he was in a non-corporeal form. Why was he here? How did he die? Was there a hell? The questions were just as constant as the flames.

Then there was a vast library.

He didn’t know how it happened, but he was the air circulating in the book filled area. It was amazingly silent, the sound of the flames still ringing.

There were no eyes to see out of, yet he _saw_ the platinum blonde girl walking hand in hand with the most nervous boy Tom could ever know. The taste of their feelings was unsettling, not an excellent addition to his present anger.

He didn’t recognise either of them; they were both wearing muggle clothing. The girl had on a bottle cap necklace, radish earrings, and weird looking glasses on her face. Her aura was so innocent; it was sickening.

The boy was average looking, tall and seemed to be uncoordinated. His aura was unsure, but there was underlying bravery. Tom didn’t like them and wished he understood what was happening.

She looked around for a while and eventually grabbed a book. The boy followed where she went. They sat on the ground in an aisle while she read out loud to the boy. Tom had no legitimate complaint of the situation as it was the only thing keeping him out of the flames.

The girl got up once the book was done and Tom couldn’t help but watch them leave as he wondered what would happen. The blond opened a door mid bookshelf, and they exited together. As soon as it shut, the library lit up back in flames; his panic spread just as quickly as the fire.

He had no choice but to be back in the loop.

Then there was a bedroom. It looked like something out of a children’s book. The colour schemes were youthful and the scattered items consisted of toys and books for adolescents. The door opened and in walked a girl in pyjamas.

She broke down and crumbled to the floor, grabbing the closest toy. The girl hugged it to her chest as if it would disappear. Tom was nauseous from the range of emotions radiating off her.

He had no choice but to watch her get up and lay down on the bed. She was mumbling incoherently. Tom didn’t know how long she stayed, but reluctantly she got out of the bed and exited the room.

Tom was irritated. What exactly was going on? Who were these people? The flames erupted as soon as she closed the door.

So many kids used whatever Tom was. It was agonising. Some used the room for escapes, whatever they desired apparently.

The countless requests, the voices, _the cries,_ were all overwhelming. Tom was beginning to lose his mind whatever shape it was in. He didn’t want this. It needed to stop. He couldn’t comprehend where he was trapped. 

_I need an escape._

It was a young man’s voice. It angered him and this time, he tried to refuse the room change. It was that tone, almost recognisable, but he couldn’t place it. Then the boy was pacing.

_I know you can hear me._

The voice snapped, and Tom hated how he could feel the raw emotion laced in words. Why was he stuck listening to all this ridiculousness? How long was he going to stay misshapen in this element?

_If you could give me the room from before, it’ll do just fine._

Tom refused to give in to the voice. He didn’t dare start listening to someone that was demanding things. Who does that boy think he is?! The tone alone was infuriating, and if Tom had his wand, the boy would suffer for being short and rude.

The flames stayed alit; Tom had no way of knowing when it would end. The demands were no help, and if he heard _one more_ , it would drive him insane. The flames started to leave, but he fought it, making them stay lit versus listening to the snobby child.

The voice went away, and Tom appreciated the heat, finally having _some_ control. Tom was able to stay in the fire after he learned to refuse the requests. He enjoyed the disappointment once they realised their little sanctuary was inaccessible.

_Please._

The flames slowed, and Tom’s curiosity spiked. This voice was female and firm.

_Please, give me a room._

The flames went away. Tom felt the coldness that engulfed him from the lack of constant heat. The fire transformed into pure magic, Tom couldn’t see very well, it was all a black and gold swirl, and suddenly, there was a room.

It was lined with shelves filled with books, a grand wooden desk matched with a tall back chair, a fireplace interrupted the pattern of shelves and completed with a set of couches. Then a door appeared.

_Thank you._ Her voice was sprinkled with genuine relief. The door opened, and Tom felt the new strong magic instantly.

The girl was holding her wand out in a protective grip, Tom watched her tense stance as her eyes darted everywhere. She called out a simple hello as if expecting someone in the room already.

The silence rang, and she slowly stowed her wand. Tom then noticed the robes; she’s wearing a Hogwarts school uniform. How interesting, he was in the castle. All the others wore muggle clothing or pyjamas.

It finally hit him.

He was in the Room of hidden things. Well, another form of it. This was a room explicitly made for this girl.

The magic vibrated strongly, a higher level than when he was engulfed in flames. It was her, and it was intoxicating. Different to anyone that’s come in here before.

She walked the perimeter, touching the books as she passed and made her way to the desk. Her fingers slid on the wooden surface, and Tom began to yearn for something to touch him. He wanted his body back, jealous that the inanimate objects got to experience her simple graze.

He studied her appearance. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and the robes kept her figure a secret. She was quite pretty to his standards. He could also tell she was frustrated. Very, very frustrated.

The anger pulsated with her magic, letting him have a taste. It was the most he had felt in a while. It could be decades later since he did not recognise this girl.

Being Head boy, he pretty much knew everyone.

The girl sat down and stilled. Tom was about to try tapping in her mind, wondering if he could do one of his greatest skills in such a state, but her sudden cry stopped him.

She broke down. If he had a physical nose, it’d be scrunched in disgust. Typical girl, crying for what seemed to be no reason. He felt disappointment. He’d hoped she was pragmatic and not pathetic like all the other ones.

And almost instantly, she was done. The girl sat back up, wiped her face roughly and opened her book bag. She grabbed a couple of school items out and a book, immediately starting what seemed to be her homework.

The change of emotion was startling. Tom didn’t know what to make of it, but he liked the fact that she stopped crying. Nothing like that pathetic Myrtle Warren who cried _all the time_. It was one of the reasons she was chosen. His plan to have her there in the girl’s lavatory at that moment worked.

If he had a body, he would have set the basilisk on all these weak people.

He observed. Prying her mind was out of the question for now. It seemed like with the setup of the room, she would be back. It gave Tom something to look forward to.

The clock on the mantle struck ten, and he saw her stretch, her arms went above her head, and her hands opened and shut. She put her things back in the bag and stood up, pushing the chair back under the desk.

Tom watched her look around once more, he felt her happiness and serenity. It was somewhat unsettling, but it made his hope blossom. Maybe she could help him.

She went to the door and walked right out. Tom panicked when the room set on fire, everything going up in a glittery smoke, the flames reappearing.

The heat was unwelcomed, and it frustrated him that he was back in the endless fire. His hope changed, it filled with desperation.

_He needed her._

__

The next couple of visits, Tom was trying to figure out how to approach the girl. Every time she walked in, the fear radiating off of her was intense. But determined, she would call out to make sure she was alone, and the wand would be stowed away.

How would she react to her getting an answer one day?

She loved to read, taking breaks from her homework learning to do some for fun. One of the many simple things about her from pure observation. He tried to tap into her mind the second time she came but was unsuccessful.

He shifted his shapeless self to the bookcase, concentrating on one book. It slowly moved, and he kept trying with all the magic he could muster. In one second, the magic took the form of his hand and pushed the book. It snapped out of shape, and Tom was humming with excitement.

That was the most he had ever done.

The moment was overshadowed when the spot he was celebrating was shot at. He felt the blow, shocked was an understatement when he looked back to the girl. She was standing in a very poised stance, anger and fear etched on her face.

It took several moments of silence before she slowly walked over and eyed the damaged shelf, her eyes scanning it furiously.

“Don’t be silly, Hermione, it’s nothing. Stop being ridiculous,” she bent over and grabbed the fallen book, repairing the spot she ruined. The book was returned, and she went back to doing her homework.

Tom knew what he needed to practice while she was here. Her added magic would allow him to possibly materialise, at least in a semi-corporeal form, maybe. Granted it wouldn’t be the real thing, but it was better than nothing.

He concentrated and practised in the corner for the rest of the time she stayed in the room. 

_Use the magic, use the magic, use_ **_her_ ** _magic._

Tom yelled out in frustration when she left, and the room went back up in flames. What he didn’t know was that it was an actual audible scream and the girl heard it before the door slipped shut.

__

The next time she wanted to enter, Tom was too excited. He shouldn’t have allowed it to give him hope. He watched the room summon, and the door appeared.

His hope shattered when the person to walk in was not her, but a blond male. He was wearing his school uniform and surprisingly, Tom was looking at Hogwarts current Head Boy.

He wondered who it was since the Head Girl was the one always in here.

“I swear, I heard a yell.”

Tom cocked his hearing to the female voice shouting in from the outside. The blond rolled his eyes, crossed his arms and proceeded to make fun of the supposed yell.

“I am not losing it; it was real. He sounded in pain, and it scared me.”

She finally came into view, and the blond continued his teasing. She smacked his arm receiving a glare from him.

“What a way for the Head Girl to act,” Draco scoffed, rubbing his arm dramatically.

“Didn’t know Head Boy was such a weak prat, I’ll make a note of it.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“You’re the one who has me scoping out a room because you heard someone screaming,” he retorted, smirking when she glared at him. “How did you summon the room? I was up here for weeks, and it never came.”

Tom finally placed a face to the weak link who was asking for the room before. They were starting to bicker, and Tom felt the magic intensify.

It consumed him, and he realised that both of these students were enough for him to try, it was now or never. Maybe if he materialised, it would anchor the room instead of it returning to flames. Tom relaxed, the magic coursing strongly and allowed it to swallow him. It spun in a whirlwind, every spin speeding up faster and faster.

Before he knew it, his feet hit the ground. Tom kept his eyes closed, scared to see what he was. His hands travelled everywhere. His eyes shot open, and he looked down.

“How are you going to ignore me while I’m right in front of you, Granger?!”

Hermione covered Draco’s mouth, forcing him to pay attention to her expression towards the left. He looked in the same direction, and his eyes widened like hers. They stared at the young man before them.

“It worked!” Tom let out, hearing his voice again was exciting. He was back.

“Who are you?!” Hermione demanded. Draco removed her hand, and they both immediately reached for their wands.

Tom turned too eagerly, his smile turning into a frown quickly when he realised the two had their wands pointed at him. He was without his own and his brilliant plan shattered with the obvious outcome.

“My name is…” Tom paused as he saw them both look sternly towards him. He couldn’t very much well say his name; they would check out who he was no doubt. 

“Go on then, who the hell are you?” Draco snapped.

Tom’s nostrils flared from anger. The blond was triggering his memory of Abraxas; that’s who he resembled. This boy had no idea who he was speaking to, and it was taking everything in him not to punish him—

“Well?”

The girl’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked to her, and he decided he would exercise his charm.

“I am what you call the Room of Hidden Things,” Tom smirked and he was pleased with the confused expressions they both were now sporting.

“You mean the Room of Requirement?” Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Draco shook his head no.

“It’s the room of hidden things. I used it in sixth year.” Draco corrected her, causing Hermione to roll her eyes again.

“It’s the Room of Requirement, you idiot. If you read anything, you would know.” She argued, and he started to defend himself. Tom was interested in their dynamic but felt greediness kick in with her attention upon another. He needed _Hermione_ , the name rolled off the tongue, and it suited her.

“I can simply be called something else, is it easier for you both to decide on a name?” Tom suggested as  Draco looked like he was honestly debating.

“How do we know you aren’t lying?”

_Oh, sweet girl, how clever you are. But I am more clever than you will ever be._

“How else would I appear? Remember the book incident, Hermione? He was here begging at the wall for weeks, but I did not allow him to enter. You took one moment before I presented the room for you. Only those _worthy_ can receive the room.”

Tom lied through his grin, the two were stumped, and he felt smug. It was good to be back, condescending charm and all. He was sure his looks were just as lovely as before. The vanity side of him was stroking his ego as he saw them look him up and down. Both males and females were always intrigued, Tom didn’t mind the gawking.

“I wasn’t _begging_.” Draco snapped, and Hermione smirked at his annoyance.

“Sure, okay. It’ll be our little secret.” Tom winked, and Hermione broke into a giggle, Draco’s cheeks flushed.

Draco was about to protest when Hermione looked at Tom, “you’re basically the castle’s personal assistant.”

“Personal assistant?” Draco was now rolling his eyes, “You mean like a house elf?”

“No, I don’t mean a house elf!” She snapped sourly, Draco shrugged in amusement knowing it would strike a nerve.

“I meant like my father’s dental assistant, Alexa. She was amazing at helping him out for everything. Used to sneak me candy when I was younger.”

“Alexa?” Tom repeated, shortening it could give him a sufficient name.

“Yes,” Hermione smiled.

“Such a muggle name,” Draco retorted, still annoyed by the room’s insult. Malfoys never begged.

“If you have forgotten—”

“No one has forgotten anything about you, Granger, the Muggleborn princess. For fuck’s sake, we get it.”

“Yet, it was a muggleborn who summoned a room whereas I’m assuming you’re pureblood?” Tom smirked, his insides crippling for insulting the pureblood. It was everything he previously stood for. Hermione crossed her arms smugly and also smirked at Draco.

“Have fun with your stupid room.” Draco stormed out, and Hermione turned to go after him, but paused.

“What can I call you?” She asked, Tom raised an amused eyebrow at her.

“You can call me whatever you’d like, perhaps Tom for simplicity? Or Alex?” He flashed his perfect teeth, and her cheeks started to flush as well.

Hermione frowned at the first name, it striking a nerve from her experience of dealing with Tom fucking Riddle. He waited, feeling the mood change and wondered why.

“We can go with Alex,” she cocked her head to the side wondering if such a name suited him. Then she remembered Draco storming off. “I’ll be back.”

Tom nodded his head and watched her disappear through the door. He waited to see if once it closed the flames would return. It slowly faded and he looked around nervously.

To his liking, the room stayed.

Hermione continued after Draco hoping she could talk him down from telling anyone about the room. It was her only escape, and he was not going to take it away.

She quickened her pace, annoyed because she wanted to continue talking to the _room_ . There’s no way it was real, Alex wasn’t real. He certainly _looked_ real. The smile sure was charming, to say the least.

“Draco!” She called out as he continued down the floors ignoring her. Hermione frowned recognising the route. He was headed towards the library.

“Will you slow down?” She grabbed his arm, and he turned towards her angrily. Once again, Hermione bloody Granger was able to do something he couldn’t. Always second place; it was frustrating and still, even as they got past their previous enemy status, she again came out on top.

His mind wandered to her actually being _on top_. Hermione was speaking, and his eyes were fixated on her mouth, the soft plump lips were keeping his attention.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes, you’ve been going on about the stupid room.” Draco scoffed.

“You can’t tell anyone. I don’t want to lose it.” Hermione crossed her arms, hoping he’d agree.

“What do you even want that room for? I was asking for it because I actually need it.” Draco hissed.

“I need it too.” Hermione gulped and dropped her gaze. It would keep him from seeing her feelings. It was hard to conceal them, and he didn’t need to know anything personal. 

“What does Hermione Granger, famous war heroine and best friend of Saint bloody Potter need a hidden room for? The brightest witch of her age, one stupid third of the _Golden Trio_ —“ 

“Because I don’t want to be Hermione Granger anymore!” She yelled to stop his rant. Draco’s mouth shut in surprise, his eyebrow raised at her angry expression. She was actually serious.

“Not be Granger anymore? As if it were that easy.” He scoffed, trying to keep his condescending tone. Hermione’s eyes brimmed with tears, Draco didn’t want to indulge her, fearing a breakdown. He heard enough in their quarters, and he was sure she could listen to him. They weren’t crossing that bridge with each other.

“I won’t tell anyone about the room.” He muttered, “Only if I get to come along too.”

Hermione frowned, “Why do you want to be hidden?”

“I don’t. I want in.” Draco crossed his arms.

“You can come _sometimes_. I need my time away from you too.”

He smirked and turned on his heels, departing in the opposite direction of the library. She groaned in annoyance to the agreement, but was half glad he wasn’t going to report Alex.

Hermione walked quickly to the library, signing her name for her permanent pass to the restricted section. One of the perks of helping Harry Potter is you get what you want. Hopefully, there was something in there to explain the magic in the Room of Requirement.

__

Tom sat on the couch feeling relieved that his plan worked. The flames were gone, and he consumed enough energy to keep his semi-corporeal form. It was a start.

He was giddy from the waves of feelings he hadn’t quite felt in a while; there were also new ones. He suspected the mixture of the other two’s magic, left traces of their personalities. Then there was a familiar feeling, one he could almost pass as his own.

It was a desperate and yet angry flash of feelings. He sat still and tried to feel it some more — _blood. I need blood._

As quickly as it came, it was gone. Tom sat there somewhat startled. Nowhere did those feelings come from the girl and the boy was too prideful. Forbidden Forest… he was trying to piece it together. Maybe his old feelings were returning? He only ever used the Forbidden Forest for nightly meetings. But the blood part made more sense, he usually lured his victims as well to get his fix.

He tried to continue feeling it, the normalcy of the thoughts was now wanted. But It never came back.

Tom sighed and decided to let it go for now. He thought back to the pair who helped him materialise. It was interesting to see them both bickering. Tom would guess one of them had feelings for the other. It wouldn’t help him if that one were Hermione, he needed her most as she seemed the more competent of the pair. But to have a Malfoy serving him again, would be a nice little touch to his semi-return. He wondered which generation was in his presence.

Tom sat up quickly realising that he could probably summon the door and leave. Maybe only on the castle grounds but it would do, instead of waiting in the room 

_Wait_ …. he paused and contemplated, thinking what would happen if a Professor spotted him. Surely, they would recognise him instantly, he was Head Boy in his day. His cover would be blown.

The news of Tom Riddle back in the castle would surely spread and who knew what he achieved before being sucked into this ridiculous room.

It took some time to think things through, but he distinctly remembered leaving the castle after the interview. So why was he back? And where was the room of hidden things? 

He gave up, deciding to direct all his questions to Hermione. It would start with exactly what year it was.

__

Hermione paced her room, wondering if she should go back alone or ask Draco to go with her. It was risky to interact with something having hardly any information to read. All she could find was that the room would present them with something most needed.

That was a bit tricky to think about. He appeared while both her and Draco were present. Was he there for her or Draco? It seemed the room listened to someone’s wants. But if he was for her, why wait till Draco was also in the room to appear?

So many unanswered questions, but honestly, she was ready for an escape after the annoying week she had.

If it wasn’t an overly doting Professor or another fan from the war, it was some boy thinking they could approach her, as if she would fall for any smuck so easily. Nobody in this school would understand her ever. She was tired of being praised and wanted.

On that thought, Hermione decided to change from her pyjamas and got dressed to head to the Room of Requirement. She’d rather figure out that puzzle while having someone to talk to versus being alone in her room.

Draco was sitting on the couch in their shared living area, hearing her rant. Even with the door closed, Draco was able to make out some of her thoughts. It was amusing and one of the things he enjoyed during the morning. He could ignore his demons and listen to the perfect brightest witch of her age rant about either some annoying Professor or another male student daring to talk to her.

She emerged from her room in muggle clothing, her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie. Her eyes widened upon seeing him.

“Going somewhere?” he sipped tea, putting down the Prophet and smirked. 

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” she huffed out and started to leave.

“Who would cover this perfect body when they don’t have to?” Draco stretched and sighed, Hermione paused to take a peak and then shook her head to refocus.

“I’m going to the library,” the door slammed behind her and Draco rolled his eyes at the lie. He got up and decided to follow her to the Room of Requirement, where she was apparently going.

She took off jogging to the seventh floor, knowing Draco would be close behind. If there were ever a pair of students who didn’t trust each other, they were the perfect example. Hermione would guess she’d beat him by a couple of minutes with how long he took to pick something out to wear.

Hermione got to the wall and paused to catch her breath. She paced three times and pictured Alex in her head. There was a little hope that he was made for her, it would finally be something for just Hermione Granger. Not Harry, not Ron and definitely not Malfoy.

The door presented itself, and she let out a little squeal, very out of character for herself, but her adrenaline was pumping. It was nerve-wracking and also Draco could be close behind. She opened the door and walked into the room.

Tom was laying on the couch reading a book held above him. The door went away, and Hermione cleared her throat.

“You’ve finally come back,” he continued reading, listening to her footsteps drawing closer. Hermione sat down in the armchair, crossing her arms and legs nervously. He peeked to the side and smiled before closing the book.

He got up and sat down properly, one leg resting on his knee. He kept the smile he knew made anyone squirm. She stared at him, taking in his appearance. He was rather handsome, and his eyes were red. They were interesting.

“I imagine you have loads of questions?” Tom broke the silence, settling into the couch some more. She liked control, something he learned in her visits.

“I do,” Hermione answered, unsure of where to start. 

“Ask away, I am here for you, Miss Granger.”

He immediately could tell; the blush was creeping on her neck and her cheeks flushing a dark pink, she was content with his statement.

“Why wait till Draco was also in the room?”

“I didn’t want you to be startled by yourself, he was merely a buffer for me to appear when you were not alone. If I knew you wanted it to be _just_ us, I would have waited.”

Hermione gulped, his smile was too perfect, the words he was saying were too pleasing. Yet, she was in no rush of rejecting them as usual. He was made for her.

“I suppose that was the proper way of doing it,” she answered, unsure of what to say next. “It was you then, screaming out the last visit?”

“I was frustrated that I had finally mustered up the courage to speak and you were leaving.” Tom smiled, Hermione cocked her head to the side. He wished he could tap into her mind.

“How long have you been watching me?”

“Since the first day you entered.”

She frowned now, feeling a little awkward that he saw her break down.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.”

“What year is it?”

“1998.”

Tom tried to remain calm. It was so many years later, what exactly was going on?

“And the Minister?”

“Shacklebolt,” Hermione answered bluntly. The questions were odd.

“Well, those are my only two questions.” He gulped down the anger brewing. Where was his older self? “Now tell me, what exactly do you need me for?”

Hermione frowned, “I don’t need you.”

“You have to have thought you needed someone, otherwise, why am I here?” Tom was banking on her feelings. Hopefully, something would resonate and validate his presence to her.

She kept quiet, wondering when she ever thought of needing anyone. Hermione Granger didn’t _need_ anyone, but she could have maybe wanted a friend that wasn’t equally or more famous than she was. Everyone who even knows Harry was being followed.

“Why don’t we start with telling me about you, Hermione?”

Her heart sped up, and it felt like an interview. Everyone wanted to know every bloody detail, every useless fact of her or the boys. What could she even possibly say that wasn’t already plastered all over the wizarding world?

“I like to read,” she responded plainly, it felt like the most real and honest fact about her. One she didn’t mind sharing repeatedly.

“So I noticed, you read all the time in here.” Tom smiled, growing impatient but letting his charm suppress it. It wouldn’t do well to rush her since he hadn’t the slightest clue to who she is.

“I mean, I could tell you everything everyone knows.”

Before Tom could answer, she started in a very standoffish tone. He kept quiet and let her continue. 

“I’m Hermione Granger, war heroine and the brains of the Golden Trio, best friend _and that’s all,_ to the boy who lived! Hermione Granger, the muggle-born witch who’s proven anyone can be of any blood status and be powerful! Hermione Granger, the newest witch on everyone’s radar. _Hermione bloody Granger the girl who is equally smart as she is pretty! The girl who helped the boy who lived TWICE!”_  

The cry caught in her throat, and she had to stop to swallow, her breath was short. Her quickly tear filling eyes were betraying the condescending tone of her amazing monologue; “ _Anyone would kill to be you, Hermione_.”

She hated it. Hermione wanted to be known for herself, not Harry or Ron or anything to do with the war. She wanted to be Minister, and at this point, she’d be lucky to be taken seriously anywhere.

The reason for coming back to school was to get away from everyone. Instead, she went to a place where there was no place to hide from the admirers. It’s why she wanted the room; it’s why the room probably thought she needed someone as well.

“That was interesting. You’re a war hero? What war exactly?”

She frowned, her emotions catching her off guard. Hermione felt a little offended that he was questioning her, but then felt relieved he had no idea. This was someone Hermione could talk to alone and say everything to, the less exaggerated version. The real story of it all and her point of view. 

“I was one of the people who helped defeat Voldemort.”

Tom knew he wasn’t real, but swore he could feel his heart beating faster. Did she say his name without any hint of fear?

“Voldemort?” He kept his tone curious, trying to keep it from radiating the anger he felt.

“He was the prat that nearly destroyed the wizarding world.”

Her tone was so dismissive as if Voldemort was _nothing_ ; as if he had made no impact or strides towards what Tom wanted for most of his life.

“How did you defeat him?” He asked, his teeth clenched tightly, his smile still calm. Did he achieve nothing?

Hermione sighed and thought back to the first year; her memory started at her first adventure with Harry and Ron. The troll brought them together. If only she just went on her way and befriended others. 

“There were many instances, all starting from our first year. Bloody brilliant evil man.”

She never voiced it, but throughout the time of being on the run, there was the dreadful thought that he outsmarted everyone. That if she couldn’t read or put the pieces together, that Voldemort indeed was the darkest and smartest wizard of all time. Merlin knows Harry wasn’t going to outsmart him on his own. 

“Interesting.” Tom breathed out; his hands now folded together. He wanted to yell at her, curse every detail out. Instead, he kept his smile.

“And how exactly did you defeat him?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow to him, “You really want to know?”

Tom nodded, holding himself back from demanding the details. “Tell me everything.”

It took two hours of non-stop storytelling. She started from their first year and couldn’t stop. Every word was like a small little weight relieving her chest and mind.

By the end of it, Hermione felt relief but strange that no one was there to interrupt her. Whenever she tried to tell her side of the story, it was either interrupted by Harry or Ron or an interviewer who cared less about her, but instead wanted Harry’s point of view only. Someone was finally willing to listen to her side of the story — the less exaggerated and real version.

“So, Voldemort is gone...” Tom was trying to stay neutral. He hoped that she wasn’t as receptive to his feelings as he was to hers. She would be able to feel his anger if so. “And you helped defeat him.”

“Like it was hard?” she chuckled.

His teeth clenched and fists balled up tightly, hearing her taunt what he created and invested in. Lord Voldemort was supposed to rule, and this girl with her two stooges managed to ruin all of his plans.

“It was actually quite difficult.” she recollected herself.

The laughing stopped, and she took in a deep breath. It was foolish to pretend that they didn’t struggle. That was Ron’s approach to act like they never had a hard time or never left one another.

The time it took for Hermione to figure everything out was agonising, the tasks seemed impossible, and it was hard to force Harry and Ron to her level of magic. They thrived off luck while Hermione was pure natural ability. It felt horrible thinking it, but it was true. Harry being glorified for the things she thought of and executed was insulting, but she couldn’t outshine the boy who lived.

No one could.

It’s one of the reasons Hermione left them. She was tired of being connected to him and Ron, the bar set so low. Anything she did now would be attached to the ridiculous credentials that came with Harry Potter. Her accomplishments forever overshadowed by him. 

_“Hermione Granger, the brains of the trio and friend of the Boy Who Lived, Harry James Potter, becomes Minister of Magic.”_

Not even in her head could she escape them. It felt like she was stuck in second place and she hated it. She hoped as time passed and they were seen separately, the Magical world can differentiate the three. 

“You destroyed all of Voldemort? Every single one of his horcruxes?” Tom felt smug asking the question. If they were indeed successful, he wouldn’t be here. She had no idea and spoke of his first demise so dismissively, her intelligence didn’t think twice to question the second fall. How stunned would she be to learn that Alex was actually the twenty-two-year-old soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle from the diadem?

His mind immediately snapped to the other day. Hermione just gave him the answer to what it was he had sensed previously when she told him about their first spotting of the Dark Lord. It was _him_ again. His semi-corporeal form was in the forbidden forest, once again feeding off unicorn blood. 

“Yes. They were difficult but-“ Hermione could hear the excitement spike in his tone which was odd, “We managed to destroy them all.” 

“How?” Her answer to it all would make his second return that much greater. Destroy the item that helped destroy his pieces of soul.

“With the Sword of Gryffindor.” She answered. His smile was more genuine, the sword had to be in the castle. It was on the list of things to do; with Hermione’s help of course.

“We actually used this room to destroy one; the Diadem in fiendfrye.”

“Well, that’s interesting to know.” He was making mental notes now, the need for her strengthening again. He needed to make her want him back.

The striking of a clock on the mantle made them both jump and checked the time. It was noon. She had been there all morning and her stomach suddenly tuned in, growling.

“I should go eat,” Hermione stood up and Tom did as well. She took in his height, a little surprised at how tall he was. They stood around, both not speaking anymore.

Hermione wanted to know what the room was thinking about her now, what the verdict was.

“Will you come back to see me?” Tom tried to make his face show sincerity. Hermione’s cheeks flushed again, his eyes staring straight into hers. Tom wanted out of the room as soon as possible. He stepped forward, brushing a strand of hair to the side of her face.

It was shocking, she could _feel_ the light touch of his fingers grazing her forehead as the hair was swept aside. He smiled and her stomach filled with butterflies. This didn’t feel right but simultaneously, it did. He was made for her.

But he wasn’t real.

“Yes.”

He smiled and she swallowed, his eyes darting down to her neck. He finally noticed the scar.

“Battle wound?” His finger traced the different colour toned line of skin. She shuddered, her breathing growing short.

“Cursed knife.” She answered quietly. Tom wanted to know how she got it. There was no mention of her being harmed there. 

“That story can be for next time, go on and eat. I’ll be here.”

Hermione dropped her gaze and cleared her throat, the skin on her neck still tingling from his airy touch, “Right. I’ll be back later.” 

Tom watched the door close and sat back down, trying to process everything.

_He lost_.

Everything he built and worked for was gone. There was no power obtained, nothing to show, nothing was in his favour. Lord Voldemort lost; Harry Potter won.

__

A week had gone by and Hermione hadn’t returned. Tom was angry but also, appreciative that he had time to sit alone to his thoughts. If his older self lost, that meant he needed a new identity; a new name.

He devised a plan, reckless to say the least. His dire need for someone intensified. Hermione mentioned that his followers were not welcome anymore. That everyone who was even suspected of having his mark were social outcasts. It was an unfortunate turn of events, he would need to partner with someone who wasn’t a pureblood.

Yes, he needed a new name to be associated with, one that didn’t carry a pureblood family legacy.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door appeared and he stood up, fixing his clothes. Hermione walked in and froze mid-step, seeing that he was waiting. Her skin was pimpled with goosebumps as she remembered his thumb on her neck last week.  

“Hi.”

“Hello,” Tom raised an eyebrow at her short greeting. She wasn’t moving. “Is something the matter?” 

“Bellatrix Lestrange hurt me with a cursed knife.” Hermione blurted out.

“What?” Lestrange was familiar, one of the sacred twenty-eight.

“I was tortured by Bellatrix in Malfoy Manor when we were captured. I didn’t say anything because of the nightmares. I still have them.”

Sadness spread in the room, Tom could feel it fill him. His anger was trying to suppress it but her feelings were much stronger.

“I see. Did you dream of her? Is that why you didn’t come?”

She nodded and he wondered if she would allow him to approach her. Hermione didn’t seem the kind to need comforting. Her eyes were welling with tears. He decided to take advantage of her sadness; this was his chance to advance whatever he could manage with her. 

“Come here,” he instructed, she frowned and he opened his arms, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not asking twice.”

Hermione hesitated but then went to where he was standing. There was no one to be strong for in this room. She didn’t need to feel embarrassed walking over to Alex. He wiped the tears on her cheek and pulled her in gently. He wasn’t used to such interaction. In his past life, no one dared touch him. When he fucked any of the girls in school, they abided by his rules. Hermione stood there awkwardly for a few moments but soon slowly, wrapped her arms around his waist. 

He felt almost real, the magic only being strong enough for her arms not to fall through. It was oddly comforting.

“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly. The question was random and Tom felt her curiosity drag down with strings of insecurity. He wondered how someone so smart could be riddled with so much self-doubt. His confidence was what made him succeed.

Well, succeed to his demise. He tried to make a new plan but everything in him was not ready to lose himself a second time.

“I’m thinking how you could manage such a war and be sane.” He answered her truthfully. It was a wonder and a sort of respect blossomed. She carried the boy who lived to victory. He had no reason not to believe that Harry Potter would have died without her.

“I ask myself that every day,” she mumbled, her arms tightening around his waist. Hermione was so conflicted, the butterflies in her stomach were at war with her mind berating her silently that he didn’t exist.

“I wish I could take it all away,” Tom whispered, hoping every fake sincere word helped him. She wasn’t terrible and this also concerned him. It would do no good if the feelings were mutual. 

They stayed holding each other for a while, Hermione’s feelings melted from insecure and sad to serene. He was affecting her and while he hated to admit it, it seemed he didn’t mind her presence either.

__

“Merry Christmas.” Hermione walked into the room with a plate of desserts, deciding to hide out in the Room of Requirement. There were many kids this time around that stayed and she wasn’t dealing well without having a break from all the people and attention. Even the Headmistress asked if she needed help or someone to talk to, but she declined.

Tom watched her walk to the desk and place the plate down. They’d been experimenting for a month now, and his hunger was nonexistent. Hermione was adamant about trying to make him more real. She played right into his hands.

“Come here,” Tom smirked, she walked over to the couch and sat beside him. He cupped her cheek, her eyebrows furrowing sadly. It was still airy and lightest of touches. She yearned for more.

“I found new material. It says we can use someone’s magical core to help materialise you.” She placed her hand over his, the magic of the room allowing for hers to not completely go through.

“How does that work?” 

“There’s a potion we need to brew and we should start soon.”

“Just a potion? That sounds too easy.”

Hermione smirked, “When you see the list of ingredients, you’ll see why it’s not so simple.”

“So who’s magical core are we using? Yours?”

“No. This is really dark magic and it strips the witch or wizard used of their magical abilities, permanently.” Hermione said softly. Tom looked at her shocked for suggesting something so nefarious. Making someone a muggle for their benefit made him rethink her Gryffindor status.

“So who is our victim?” He asked her, his hand on her knee now, she shifted nervously.

“I have someone in mind. You don’t need to worry. What we have to do is make the potion. It takes three months to brew and it can be stored for up to three or four months. That gives us a while to figure everything out. We will have to make a foolproof plan to get you out of here unseen.”

Tom sighed at the length of the wait for him to be officially back. Hermione had been in the restricted section for a month now and she was refusing to use Peter’s way.

“I can’t know who you’re planning to make a muggle? Maybe I can help in tricking them.” He leaned towards her, Hermione gulped and began to grow more nervous. 

“That’s-”

He brushed his lips on hers, he couldn’t feel anything but her reaction was everything. She let out a jagged breath, trying to remain calm, “not necessary.” 

“I can’t wait till I can kiss you,” Tom smirked and Hermione rolled her eyes, her flushed cheeks making Tom chuckle.

__

May 2nd

Hermione was doing her rounds of the castle. There was a ceremony going on where they buried Dumbledore. Tom wasn’t pleased having to wait so long but Hermione knew this was the one chance to have everyone out of the castle for sure. 

Draco rounded the corner and spotted her ahead of him. He walked quickly and wrapped his arms around her waist. She giggled and turned towards him, tiptoeing to meet his lips. 

For the past five months, Hermione and Draco began dating. It was rough at first, but Hermione managed to get everyone to settle down about his Death Eater past. Draco was tied around her finger and was all too happy to have returned to Hogwarts for school. 

They were planning lots of things after they finished their time at Hogwarts and Draco was already writing to their family jeweller for ring options. He was irrevocably in love. Doesn’t matter that his mother thought it was all very rushed, he knew what he wanted and that was Hermione Granger for the rest of their lives. 

“Where are you headed?” He asked against her lips, she pulled away and smiled.

“To the Room of Requirement. I was practising some potions in there and need to keep a close eye on them,” she made her tone forcefully sad.

Draco stayed silent, not wanting to have her spiral into another episode of guilt. He knew what the school was up to with the memorial and didn’t want anything to do with today. He was glad Hermione didn’t either. 

“Won’t Potter wonder where you’ve gone?”

“Who cares what Harry and Ronald think, I’m going to do homework. Are you coming with me or not?” She placed her lips back on his, hoping to entice him to the hidden room. 

“Of course I am, no need to try and convince me,” he smirked.

They walked hand in hand to the seventh floor, Hermione was so nervous but kept as composed as she could. Draco didn’t even notice that she slipped his wand out of his pocket.

“What potion are you brewing?”

“Just something I found in the library,” Hermione smiled.

“Because that doesn’t sound at all suspicious,” Draco stopped and pulled her into another kiss. They kissed for a minute before they heard some footsteps.

“Let’s hurry before someone finds us.” She paced three times and Draco followed her in, surprised to see the potions classroom. There was only one table in the middle with several vials.

“You already made it?” Draco frowned and Hermione continued walking to the table, pulling out a piece of paper from her pocket.

“I need someone to try it on, love,” she said quietly. Draco stayed by the door and she started to mix the multiple vials into a goblet.

“What is it?”

She stirred it three times and watched the golden smoke rise and disappear. It was officially ready. Hermione turned with the goblet in hand and walked over to Draco.

“It’s modified liquid luck, typically the potion will only last for 2-3 hours, but my modified version will give you luck for up to a week!”

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. His rule-abiding girlfriend altered one of the hardest potions out there. He grabbed the goblet staring at the liquid for a moment. 

“Why aren’t you trying it?” He asked.

“I need to watch and record the results, not be affected by them. I’m  writing an essay on this for extra credit.” Hermione was nervous that Draco would refuse. Tom was waiting in the corner, trying to be as inconspicuous as he could.

He eyed her for several more moments before Hermione softly smiled. He shrugged and started to drink. It was like he had never drunk a single drop of liquid in his life. Draco couldn’t stop, his swallows weren’t fast enough to keep the all too delicious liquid down. He ran out and finally sucked in a harsh breath.

“I need more.” He snapped and looked around the room. Tom smirked at the scene of Draco going crazy. The text did say, _The drinker will want nothing more than to be put out of their misery._

Hermione gulped and felt guilt start to build. Draco grabbed her by the shoulders, “I need more Hermione! Now!”

“I’m sorry, Draco, there is no more.” She whispered as he tightened his grip, his eyes widening angrily. He reached into his pocket for his wand and became frantic. 

“Where’s my wand?!” 

Hermione pulled hers out and cast a rope binding spell. Draco fought it as hard as he could, yelling for help and more of the potion. 

“What are you doing?!” Draco screamed. 

She knelt beside him with Tom stepping forward and kneeling on the other side. Draco looked between them and continued to yell for an answer.

“You need to place your hand on his chest and my wand needs to be on his heart.” Hermione sliced her forearm, and held it over Draco’s mouth. She plugged his nose and forced the open wound between his lips.

He fought it for a few seconds, biting her skin. She held her arm despite the pain and soon, he began to drink. He sucked on her arm as if it were his lifeline. Hermione felt nauseous, removing her arm. 

“Please,” he begged, “I need more.”

“Are you ready?” Hermione looked to Tom as he nodded while reaching for her arm and kept eye contact as his tongue licked the extent of the cut. Her breath hitched, the pleasure of just watching him do it was overwhelming.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Draco demanded, he started to roll from side to side, panicking that he was stuck.

“Petrificus Totalus.” Hermione snapped angrily that he ruined the moment.

Draco became paralysed, Tom approving of the silence.

“Okay, now we’re ready.”

She placed the tip of her wand over his heart, Tom was listening to the Latin words coming out of her mouth. A gold ball of light started to glow from Draco’s chest. It began to leave and go towards Tom’s hand. Draco’s body went limp, his eyes closing from unconsciousness. 

Hermione tried to hold on, becoming drained from the intense level of magic coming from herself. Tom closed his eyes, feeling nauseous as his body was restored, the ball of light entering his hand and travelled up his arm.

The next person to fall unconscious was Hermione. Tom panicked thinking it was her magic continuing the spell but the ball of gold light stayed in him. He held on till it hit his heart. 

His body convulsed, the shock of everything inside him was overpowering. The last thing he saw was Hermione barely awake and watching him as he too had no choice but succumb to unconsciousness.

Draco eyes fluttered open, his mouth was dry and his body was heavy. He felt…. empty. The ropes around him were still there and the last thing he could recall was the thirst. The potion Hermione gave him was too good. He looked to the side and saw Hermione stitching her arm up. She was crying as the spell closed the wound.

“Her...Hermione…” Draco croaked, his throat throbbing from the thirst and pain of the dryness. 

“Draco?” Hermione looked surprised that he was awake. Tom was on the ground, the gold light coming from him meant his body was still restoring.

“What happened?” He asked weakly, his eyes drooping. Hermione noticed he looked gaunt and paler than usual. 

She waved her hand and the ropes let him go. He stayed still, not wanting to move just yet. _More drink, I need more drink._  

His mind was only thinking of one thing. She knew it as his tongue was starting to lick his lips. The book said the person would never be satisfied as long as they’re alive. 

“More drink, Hermione, please,” he groaned and Hermione pulled out a vial to give him his last wish. She put the tube to his lips and Draco immediately responded. He sucked on it desperately.

“More…”

Draco sounded like a zombie. She hoped at first that somehow he would be able to live as a muggle, modify his thoughts and place him somewhere.

“Where are we?” Draco saw the room was in ruins. His memory was recalling a classroom of some sort, not this destroyed room.

Hermione looked around confused, trying to see what he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“This place looks terrible. Did you blow something up?”

It took several moments before it clicked in her mind. Any muggle who stumbled upon the castle would see it being abandoned and in ruins. Draco was already in the protective barrier, so he was seeing the spell put in place.

“No, it was already like this.” Hermione decided to go with it. She leaned over and kissed him, her guilt telling her to say a proper goodbye.

“What was that for?” He smirked, his bloodstained lips made Hermione feel sick.

“Just wanted to kiss you,” she grabbed her wand subtly, “I love you, Draco.”

The words were like acid in her mouth; her true loyalty was with the person still unconscious. But her guilt was making her act proper and with manners. She tricked Draco and he needed to go with no heartbreak.

“I love you too, Hermione,” he frowned about to question her when the green jet of light left the tip of her wand. Draco became lifeless and Hermione was reminding herself to breathe.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, cupping his face. Despite the lies and fake relationship, she did start to care for him. 

Tom sucked in a hard breath and sat up. Hermione looked at him in awe, no longer seeing the soft glow from the magic. He was now human.

“It worked.”

They stared at each other for a while. Hermione wasn’t sure what he was thinking. She stood up and walked a little away from Draco’s body. Her guilt was exploding. Tom got up as well, his legs wobbling a bit. He hadn’t felt the weight of his body in so long.

He slowly made his way to Hermione. She became nervous as his steps came towards her. She busied herself, grabbing things on the table and putting them on random spots. The potion vials were empty and it was utterly useless to be moving them around.

Tom could only feel two raw emotions; appreciation and lust. They were both charging each other, Hermione’s success in making him human again was intoxicating. He wanted her.

He couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ , wait to have his way with her. He’d been frustrated with every kiss he couldn’t feel, with every hand-holding he couldn’t feel, with everything that happened and he couldn’t fucking feel any of it! In trying to make Hermione fall for him, all it did was pent-up an enormous amount of frustration for himself.

Tom swept her hair to the side and started to kiss her neck causing her to moan. He took her skin between his teeth, his hips grinding into her. Hermione pushed back, getting excited about his touch. She too was wanting and craving him. The airy contacts from before did no justice to the incredible feeling of his hands and lips on her now.

“We need to go,” Hermione turned and placed her hands on his chest. She was berating herself for stopping it. They only had so much time before someone would notice that the Head Girl was not attending the ceremony. Inevitably, Harry and Ron will. 

Tom took in a deep breath and was about to agree when his greediness kicked in. He grabbed her face and pulled her into a kiss. Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist, kissing him back just as eagerly. She had no real desire to leave just yet.

Harry looked out to the crowd, waiting for everyone to get in a seat. Professor McGonagall was at his side, Ron on his other. They were hoping that Hermione would join them but in her last letter, she had doubts about being at the ceremony.

His speech was rather dry and he had no idea how to fix it. Ron placed a hand on his shoulder and Harry tried to remain calm but his scar had been hurting for the past hour that he’d been on the school grounds. It hadn’t done that since last year. 

“Alright everyone, settle down. Harry Potter--”

A massive eruption of applause and cheers started, Harry’s face turned a dark shade of red and Ron was still gripping his shoulder. The cheers were deafening, Ron tried to talk to Harry but at that moment, Harry could only hear one thing.

_Blood, I need more blood._

A chill went down his spine and his scar felt like someone was tracing it with a knife. His hand went to his forehead, his cry being drowned out by the cheers. Ron held on to him.

“HARRY!”

The crowd stopped and Harry was doubled over, crying out for the pain to stop. Professor McGonagall was trying to get him to tell her where what was happening.

_Blood. I need more blood._

The visions of a beautiful animal laying on the forest floor were flooding his vision. Harry couldn’t stop them, he was terrified. He was drinking from the unicorn's neck, but he didn’t want to. Harry was crying out for it to stop while the large crowd of mourners watched.

Hermione and Tom slowly got dressed. She was avoiding his eyes and turned towards the table to avoid the other person in the room. Her guilt tripled when she was coming and her eyes dropped to Draco’s body on the ground just a few feet away.

“It gets easier,” Tom told her, running a hand through his hair. 

“What does?” Hermione looked at him, frowning.

“Killing people,” he smirked and leaned in to kiss her. Hermione continued to frown as she reluctantly kissed him back. She was completely confused. He’s killed before?

“I don’t understand, how would you know that?”

“Because I had killed many before I was trapped in this room.”

Hermione eyebrows furrowed deeper as Tom walked to the discarded wands next to Draco’s body.

“Trapped?” Hermione stilled, trying to understand what was going on. Her mind was slowly realising.

“You see, in your story about the boy who lived, you talked about Voldemort like as if he was gone. Like he was actually defeated.”

“He is defeated. Harry killed him a year ago, today.” Hermione crossed her arms defiantly. She didn't skip the ceremony just to be told about last year’s events elsewhere.

“You are so intelligent and yet, you have still not figured it out,” Tom smirked.   
  
“Figured what out?”

“My name is Tom, I am twenty-two years old and I applied for a teaching job here. During my interview with Professor Dumbledore, he rejected my application. It was then that I came to the seventh floor to find the Room of Hidden things before my departure. I needed to place my newest treasure in a room I thought no one could ever find. But even the great Harry Potter found this part of the castle.”

Before Hermione could react, a cat patronus bounded into the room. They both stared at it as it came to Hermione’s feet.

“Miss Granger, it’s Harry, he’s in the hospital wing. His scar is hurting again.”

The message was short and Hermione’s heart began to race as everything clicked in her mind. Tom looked at her with a raised eyebrow, confused about the message.

“You’re Tom Riddle,” she breathed out. Her stomach twisted and nausea swept over her. His first suggestion of Tom for a name came back to her, he already practically told her and she stupidly disregarded the thought that he was Tom fucking Riddle. Her stomach dropped at the thought, she just brought him back to life! 

“Indeed I am,” he watched the colour drain out of her face. Her hands went immediately to her pocket for her wand. His chuckle was light and made her skin crawl.

Tom pointed his new wand to her, “Imperio.”

  



End file.
